They're the words you always hope you'll never have to hear: "Becky Boos" (that's what my dad calls me alongside the Italianised version Becchi), "the doctor have found some cancerous cells in my prostate." 

The old man who taught you how to ride a bike, the importance of tolerance and only months before had helped you host one hell of a wedding bash in Italy, was sat in your front room, informing you that he was sick. Nothing can compare to that.

Thankfully though, they caught the cancer in the early stages because Dad was tested regularly and was aware of this silent killer. He received treatment over Christmas and although we may not be out of the woods quite yet, the future is looking positive.

It's not been easy, mainly because my dad like his daughter finds it difficult to sit still for too long. But it could have been so much worse if it wasn't for Prostate Cancer UK. 

Their work in helping to promote awareness of prostate cancer alongside treatments available is invaluable to families like mine. And that's why I am running the London Marathon for Prostate Cancer UK. 

It's not my first marathon but it will be one of the important races I have ever done.  

Yep, this London Marathon is for you Dad with the hope that you can continue to annoy me for the next 20 or so years.